


Hands to yourself

by notallballs (notallbees)



Series: Idle hands [1]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Cuddling & Snuggling, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Light Angst, M/M, Pining, Post-Canon, Sharing Clothes, The Boyfriend Hoodie™, Touch-Starved
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-28
Updated: 2016-10-28
Packaged: 2018-08-27 00:29:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,591
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8380522
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notallbees/pseuds/notallballs
Summary: Struggling to make small talk, Tooru had felt stifled, a stranger to himself. But now, walking in the heavy, damp air, he missed company so much that his stomach ached. 
  He missed his parents, and he missed Takeru, and Takeru's badly behaved puppy. He missed Aoba Jousai, and he missed the volleyball team. He even missed Karasuno and Shiratorizawa, just a little.


Tooru is still adjusting to being away at university, but there's one person he can always count on when he feels lonely.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [pussycat_scribbles](https://archiveofourown.org/users/pussycat_scribbles/gifts).



“Oikawa-san, are you alright? Oikawa-san?”

Tooru felt a gentle touch on the back of his wrist, quickly withdrawn, and looked up in surprise. His date stared back at him, her eyes wide and curious.

“Ah, sorry sorry, Aiko-chan,” Tooru said brightly, clasping his hands together in apology. “Please forgive me for being so rude, I just have a lot on my mind.”

Aiko continued to watch him for several moments, her gaze unreadable. Tooru shifted awkwardly in his seat, still forcing a smile, and reached out for his cup of coffee. He had barely touched the frothy drink, but it was lukewarm. Tooru took a sip and sighed under his breath. 

“So, Aiko-chan—”

“Um, Oikawa-san,” Aiko said, speaking over him. She twisted her fingers together anxiously before setting them carefully on the edge of the table, her fingertips all lined up along the polished wood. “Perhaps…” she began, her voice quiet and careful. “Perhaps we should continue this another day, when you’re feeling better?”

Tooru blinked at her several times, the words taking a few moments to settle in. When they did, guilt rose in his chest, and he carefully set his cup back down. Aiko was pretty, she seemed sweet, and they had been here for almost an hour so they must have found _something_ to talk about, even if he couldn’t quite remember the conversation. Aiko was the sort of girl Tooru would be lucky to call his girlfriend. Yet the relief he felt at her suggesting they put this off for now, or forever, was overwhelming. 

“That’s a good idea,” he said, smiling apologetically. “Let’s reschedule, it’ll be my treat.”

They said goodbye outside the café, and Tooru instinctively leaned down to kiss Aiko’s cheek before she turned away. It was impossible to miss the way her eyes widened slightly in surprise, but he was already committed to the motion. He kissed her cheek as chastely as he could, pulling back again to send her on her way with a grin and a little wave. As soon as Aiko turned her back on him, looking admittedly somewhat dazed, Tooru shoved his hands in his pockets and started to walk.

There was no particular destination in his mind, except to get away from the claustrophobic café and the dizzy sense of having failed somehow. He had arranged the date on a whim, and the guilt came back in a wave when he realised that he would never have bothered to follow through and call Aiko had he not still been jittery and on edge after yesterday's volleyball practice.

Sitting with Aiko, struggling to make small talk, Tooru had felt stifled, a stranger to himself. But now, walking in the heavy, damp air, he missed company so much that his stomach ached. He mentally flipped through his catalogue of friends; most of his new classmates would be around, likely studying. Mattsun had classes at this time. Makki would be at his part time job at the bookstore. 

Tooru pulled out his phone and opened his contacts page. Iwaizumi was at the top, listed under his favourites. He was the second contact, after Tooru's mother. Tooru flipped between them, struggling to decide who he most wanted to speak to right now. His mother would comfort, sympathise, gently tease. Iwaizumi would be more brutal, but it would get him out of his own head. 

Looking up from his phone, Tooru realised that he had just passed the steps to a shrine, its greenery hidden amongst the buildings. He hesitated for a moment on the pavement before putting his phone away and turning back. Tooru climbed the staircase, and took a seat on a bench at the top. There weren't many people up there with him; two figures stood by the offertory box, but the weather didn't encourage anyone to linger in the street.

Before Tooru could make a decision about who he wanted to talk to, his phone started to vibrate. He pulled it out of his pocket again and glanced at the screen. It was his sister. Tooru sighed his disappointment, and answered the phone with the most upbeat tone he could muster. 

"Nee-chan! How're you today? What's the news?"

"Tooru," she said in her rich, arch voice. Tooru suddenly missed her fiercely, and with it came a wave of melancholy. He missed his parents, and he missed Takeru, and Takeru's badly behaved puppy. He missed Aoba Jousai, and he missed the volleyball team. He even missed Karasuno and Shiratorizawa, just a little. 

Mikako was still talking, but Tooru was so overwhelmed that he could barely take in her words. He bent forward over his knees, letting his head hang forward and turning the phone so that she wouldn't hear his sharp inhales. He wished, fervently, that Iwaizumi had been the one to call. Iwa-chan would know what to say.

"Tooru, is everything alright?" Mikako asked after a minute, abandoning whatever it was that she was saying mid-stream. "Tooru?"

It was so painfully similar to the way that Aiko had called to him across the café table just a short while earlier. Nausea rolled through his gut, and Tooru took a deep, shaky breath to staunch the feeling.

"Fine, nee-chan," he said softly, sitting up again and pressing his hand over his eyes. "Ah, I have a headache, that's all. I'm going to go and buy some medicine."

Mikako tutted, unimpressed. "You should take better care of yourself, idiot," she said, fondly. "I'll tell mama, she'll have a care package down there before you can blink."

"No, no," Tooru groaned. He pinched the bridge of his nose with a sigh. "I stayed up too late studying, that's all. I'll take some pills and have a nap, don't go worrying mama."

"Fine," Mikako said dismissively. "But full disclosure, she asked me to call you. She's worried about you for some reason."

Tooru sat up straight, frowning. "She what? We talked yesterday."

"Don't ask me. I've never understood either one of you."

“Well, you take after dad,” Tooru murmured, his thoughts already wandering. “I should go, I need to get to the conbini and get home before it starts raining.”

Mikako sighed. “Alright, I hope you feel better. I'm here, okay? If you can't talk to mama, or your friends for whatever reason, you can talk to me.” 

Tooru pressed his hand over his face and gritted his teeth. He suddenly felt like crying. “Thanks, nee-chan.”

 

 

 

When Tooru woke from his nap that evening, he had two missed calls from Iwaizumi. A text ordered him to ‘Pick up you moron’. He smiled and sighed ‘Iwa-chan’ under his breath, and realised that he couldn’t remember the last time they had a real conversation. It had been three months since Tooru started at Keio. He knew they spoke after his first game last month; a long, rambling skype chat where Tooru fell asleep twice but refused to hang up, and for some reason Iwaizumi didn’t make him. He was fairly certain they hadn’t talked since then, not properly. Part of him wanted to call back straight away, but he didn’t like the thought that Iwaizumi might not pick up, or that he might be calling to convey some mundane piece of information and have no time to talk.

Rather than deal with it straight away, Tooru got out of bed and took a shower to wake himself up, then made himself some soup from a packet. It was just before sunset, and orange light filled his west-facing kitchen. It reminded him of Iwaizumi's bedroom back home. 

“Fuck,” Tooru muttered, grabbing the edge of the counter to steady himself. He abandoned the soup and went into the bedroom for his phone. 

Iwaizumi picked up on the first ring. 

“Oi, I've been trying to reach you, dumbass.”

Tooru sank into the couch, his face stretching in a grateful smile. “Iwa-chan, did you miss me that much?”

“You're demented,” Iwaizumi said with undeniable fondness. “What've you been doing?” 

“Ohh, the usual,” Tooru said in an airy voice. “Class and practice. Ooh, and I had a date today, and then nee-chan called to check up on me.”

“How's Mika-neesan doing?”

Tooru rolled his eyes and burrowed into the cushions. “Fine, I think,” he mumbled. “Mama wanted her to spy on me.”

There was a funny muffled sound, which Tooru realised after a moment was Iwaizumi smothering a snort of laughter. Tooru sat up again, a smile tugging at his mouth. 

“Why's Auntie spying on you?” 

Tooru sighed and picked at a loose thread in the blanket he'd left draped over the couch. “She's worried, or something? Nee-chan didn't really say.”

“Hmm.”

“What's ‘hmm’?”

Iwaizumi made a thoughtful noise. “Any reason she should be worried?”

Surprised by the question, Tooru froze for a moment before forcing out a chuckle. “She's a mother, that's enough—”

“Oikawa,” Iwaizumi said, his tone falling heavy between them and weighing down Tooru's false laughter until it sank and dissipated. “We're still best friends, aren't we? If something's up, just tell me.”

Tooru bit his bottom lip. He hadn't meant to talk about this: not with Iwaizumi, not with anyone. But two days on, the humiliation and the worry hadn't faded from his mind. 

“If you don't spill, I'm gonna start making up nicknames and forwarding them to everyone you know.”

“Iwa-chan,” Tooru whined

“Don't test me, sloppykawa,” Iwaizumi said with false menace. “I've got an arsenal loaded and ready to go.”

Tooru found himself grinning. “Can I have a preview?”

Barely even pausing to draw breath, Iwaizumi launched into a brief explanation of how Tooru had come to be nicknamed ‘candyfloss’ by his classmates. Tooru couldn't help but wonder if he'd invented it on the spot, or whether he'd gone to the trouble of thinking it up beforehand.

The rambling story trailed off with Tooru laughing, and feeling fully human for the first time all week. 

“Alright then,” Iwaizumi said carelessly, pretending that it didn't matter. “Your turn to talk.”

Tooru took a deep breath. He let it out again heavily and took another. 

“Oikawa—”

“I don't know how to ask, really,” Tooru murmured. 

Iwaizumi huffed. “How long have we been friends, candyfloss? You can ask me anything.”

“Can I be candykawa?” Tooru's attempt at teasing fell flat, but Iwaizumi just heaved a sigh. 

“I _guess_ ,” he said, sounding amused. “If you tell me what's going on.”

Tooru nodded to himself. He tried to think about how best to explain it, but every time he thought of volleyball, of the vice captain's quiet words at the end of practice, he wanted to be sick. 

“Iwa-chan,” he said eventually, into the merciful silence that Iwaizumi had left for him. “Do I...was I too, uh...hands on, with the team?” 

The silence continued after he spoke, and Tooru was just starting to feel really afraid when Iwaizumi spoke again. “What the hell does that mean? You were a good captain, if that's what you're worried about. Everyone did the best they could, including you.”

“That's not—” Tooru paused, wrinkling his nose in thought. “Thank you, Iwa-chan.”

“Right. So, that's it?”

Tooru hesitated. “Not...no, that's not—” He sighed and flopped back onto the couch, letting the air rush out of his chest in a loud huff. “Do I touch people too much?”

Again, there was silence, but only for a moment. “What's too much?” Iwaizumi asked, sounding annoyed. “You're just...y’know, you're handsy. Some people crack their knuckles, some people hum all the time—”

“And I touch everyone too much,” Tooru finished, scowling at the ceiling. 

Iwaizumi sighed in frustration. “Where's this coming from?”

“Do they even like me?” Tooru snapped, his fears getting the better of him. “Has everyone just been tolerating me for three years? Do I just creep them out?” 

“Who?” Iwaizumi asked, sounding lost and a little bit angry. “The team?” 

“ _Yes_ the team, Iwa-chan,” Tooru wailed. “All the guys in school hated me, but I always thought...maybe it was because girls liked me, but maybe you all hated it too, but you had to put up with it because I was captain, and nobody wanted to tell me—”

“Oh my god, Oikawa, _shut up_.”

Tooru closed his mouth with an audible click, trying to blink away the burning in his eyes. On the other end of the line, Iwaizumi sighed, and for a moment Tooru braced himself for some reluctant hard truths. But as soon as Iwaizumi inhaled to speak again, Tooru knew that he was _furious_.

“Who’s been filling you with this crap?” he demanded. “Don’t you think I would tell you if you were making everyone uncomfortable, you bastard? Or Makki or Mattsun?”

Tooru swallowed thickly. “Iwa—”

“We know you’re an idiot, asskawa, but that doesn’t mean we want to watch you make an asshole of yourself, alright? Who the fuck’s been giving you crap about this, hm? I’m gonna break their arms, I can’t believe you’ve been torturing yourself over something so stupid. Seriously, who was it? I’ll break them in half—”

“Iwa-chan!” Tooru said loudly, his voice cracking slightly as he spoke over his friend. 

Tooru’s eyes were watery but he was laughing when Iwaizumi stopped mid-rant and growled, “Well, I’m mad about it.”

Tooru laughed wetly and pulled his t-shirt up to wipe his eyes. “So,” he said, muffled by his t-shirt. “You don’t think I’m a creep?”

“That’s the wrong question,” Iwaizumi replied, laughing when Tooru squawked in protest. “But I don’t think it’s creepy that you like to touch people a lot, no.”

“Don’t say it like that,” Tooru groaned, wincing.

Iwaizumi ignored him. “You’re just a tactile person, like your mom, and Mika-neesan. They’re both the same, right?”

Tooru blinked up at the ceiling. His eyes felt hot and raw from trying not to cry, but his chest was lighter than it had been in days, maybe weeks. 

“You gonna tell me what brought this on?” Iwaizumi asked more gently. 

“It doesn’t really matter,” Tooru sighed. “It’s...my team. I haven’t really found their rhythm yet, and the other day the vice captain, Souma, he pulled me aside and—well, he said it’s because I touch everyone too much, that I’m too—” He paused and sighed again, his face pulling into a miserable expression. “I don’t know, he implied some...things. That I make everyone uncomfortable, and that’s why I can’t sync with them.”

Iwaizumi just snorted. “He sounds jealous to me.”

Tooru couldn’t help smiling. “Iwa—”

“You can sync with anyone, you know that, it’s like your superpower. You could sync with Ushiwaka if you wanted to.”

The smile disappeared into a twist of Tooru’s top lip, his nose scrunching up in distaste. “Don’t be disgusting, Iwa-chan,” he said in a sniffy voice.

Iwaizumi laughed loudly. “You would, you know you would.”

“Ugh,” Tooru muttered, because of course he would, but he would rather not entertain the possibility. Joining a university team without Iwaizumi had been bearable mostly because he had dodged the bullet of ending up on the same team as Ushijima. 

“You okay now?” Iwaizumi asked, his tone saying, _you’d better be._

Tooru wiped his nose on the inside of his t-shirt collar and sighed. “I’m okay.”

“Good,” Iwaizumi said. “Because I’m dying to piss, and I know how much you hate it when I go while we’re on the phone.”

“Ugh, Iwa-chan!”

 

 

 

Tooru felt strangely nervous showing up to volleyball practice the following day, but the talk with Iwaizumi had helped more than he realised, and he settled into the drills with more ease than he’d found all semester. Volleyball was a known quantity, and Iwaizumi was right; Tooru was too good to let someone throw him off his game over a personality clash. He’d dealt with worse before, and he was older now, enough to learn from his mistakes. 

Practice wrapped up almost exactly on the hour, and Tooru smiled as he lifted his shirt to wipe the sweat off his face. He was tired in the best way, and he would be practicing with the first string wing spikers at the next practice. 

“Good work today, Oikawa,” said Fujimoto, giving him a hearty slap on the shoulder as he passed. “Keep those nice tosses coming, yeah?” 

Tooru straightened up with a smile and let his shirt fall so he could dash off a casual salute. “Yes, Captain!” 

Fujimoto grinned over his shoulder at Tooru before heading out to the changing rooms. 

“Captain likes you,” Souma said approvingly, looking through the net at Tooru. His smile was friendly, but he kept his arms folded. 

Tooru turned to look at him, schooling his expression into something carefully neutral. “Souma-san,” he said, greeting the vice-captain in a calm voice. He remembered Iwaizumi's promise to break both of the guy’s arms and had to hide his smirk. “I look forward to tossing for you tomorrow.”

Souma laughed uncomfortably. “Yeah, you’re good at what you do.” 

“Thank you, Souma-san,” Tooru said, hoping that he didn’t sound insolent. It didn’t matter if he thought the guy was an asshole, he had no intention of getting on anyone’s bad side. “I’ve practiced hard, that’s all.”

“That’s good,” Souma said, still giving him a long, considering look. “Keep that up.”

Tooru managed to resist rolling his eyes as Souma turned away, though barely. He told himself that Iwaizumi would have been proud of him—not that he would say as much—and went off to get showered and changed for class. A couple of the other older players were the same way, treating Tooru and his fellow new recruits like kid brothers, as if an extra two years of university had somehow brought them enlightenment. 

Well, they all complained about doing their assignments at the last minute, and they all stank after practice, just like anyone. The words sounded like Iwaizumi’s voice in his head, and Tooru was grinning as he walked to his first class. 

Iwaizumi texted him partway through the lecture. 

iwa-chan: oi  
☆Tooru☆: (◎ ◎)ゞ iwa-chan, don’t you have class?  
☆Tooru☆: scandalous!  
iwa-chan: shut up and pay attention to your biology professor  
☆Tooru☆: you remembered!  
☆Tooru☆: were you thinking about me? (*^.^*) I was thinking about you this morning!  
iwa-chan: o yeh?  
☆Tooru☆: I had practice! and I didn’t punch the VCs face off (⌒‿⌒)  
iwa-chan: you make me proud  
☆Tooru☆: ＼(≧▽≦)／  
iwa-chan: anyway listen up  
iwa-chan: we’re bussing over for a game on friday and coach said i can stay over for the weekend and make my own way back  
iwa-chan: I thought I’d crash on your futon if you’re free  
☆Tooru☆: !!!!  
☆Tooru☆: my schedule is already cleared!  
iwa-chan: cool  
iwa-chan: you can come to the game if you want, it’s friday night  
☆Tooru☆: yes!! I’ll cheer the loudest  
☆Tooru☆: I’m going to plan something fun for Saturday  
iwa-chan: we can just hang out  
☆Tooru☆: it’s your first visit, I have to show you around! (˘▽˘)˘▽˘ς)  
iwa-chan: sure, whatever you want  
iwa-chan: stop texting me in class  
☆Tooru☆: you texted me first!  
☆Tooru☆: even though you know my schedule ヽ(ﾟ〇ﾟ)ﾉ  
iwa-chan: :p

 

 

 

Friday came interminably slowly, but Tooru found the rest of the week’s classes and practice sessions much easier to bear with the anticipation of the weekend pulling him forward. 

When the day finally arrived, Tooru reluctantly made an attempt to tidy his little apartment. The majority of his wardrobe was spread over the floor, so he picked up the worst offenders to throw in the laundry, and shoved the rest aside to make space for the futon. He washed the teetering stack of dishes, feeling so proud of himself afterwards that he didn’t even care when it made him late to his lab class.

There wasn’t time after his last seminar to wish Iwaizumi luck before the volleyball match started, but Tooru arrived in time to see the game itself begin. 

Iwaizumi wasn't in the starting lineup, but he had already made it to the reserve box, and Tooru was vastly relieved not to see him sitting in the stands, cheering on his teammates with no hope of distinguishing himself. 

When they were young, Tooru had assumed that Iwaizumi enjoyed volleyball as much as he did, in the same way that he did. By the time they started high school, he knew that he'd been wrong, and had worried that Iwaizumi only continued to play so that they would still have something in common. Now, he knew, Iwaizumi played because he wanted to; it moved something inside him, gave him something completely different than it gave to Oikawa. But it was still the same game, and they were still them, despite the odds. 

The volleyball match was only a minor game and the stadium wasn't very busy, but it still gave Tooru a thrill when Iwaizumi finally looked his way at the end of the first set, and their eyes met across the length of the court. Iwaizumi grinned at him, his smile stunning even from fifteen metres away. His hair was messy and unkempt, his jersey tight across his shoulders, and Tooru realised that his best friend was already changing in the short time they had been apart.

“Excuse me, onii-san—” 

Tooru felt a rough tug on his sleeve, and glanced down in surprise at the boy doing the tugging. He was a little younger than Takeru, with a gap-toothed, nervous smile. 

“Hey,” Oikawa said, giving him a bemused smile. “What is it?”

“Can you take a picture of us?” the boy asked loudly, gesturing to himself and then his two friends. He grabbed hold of Tooru's hand, short fingers wrapping around his palm, and pushed a disposable camera into it. 

Tooru grinned at them. “Sure.” The moment he raised the camera, all three kids launched themselves into ridiculous poses, and Tooru laughed while taking their picture. When they thanked him and went back to their seats, Tooru sat and draped himself over the railing again with a content smile. 

Iwaizumi's team had lost their first set, and Tooru watched, his heart swelling with pride, when Iwaizumi was put into rotation for the second set. There had been an unvoiced fear between them that they wouldn't find anyone on their university teams that they could work with as well as each other, but Tooru was both pleased and envious to see that Iwaizumi was already syncing well with his new setter. 

They won three straight sets, and Tooru was out of his seat and screaming the second the whistle blew on the final score. Iwaizumi looked his way with a wince, but still grinned and waved at Tooru despite being embarrassed by him. 

Tooru went down to meet him, and Iwaizumi greeted him with a gruff half-handshake, half-hug, which was still more than Tooru had expected him to give in front of his teammates. A few of them asked to be introduced to Iwaizumi's friend, and he reluctantly introduced Tooru to the setter, the libero, and another wing spiker. They tried to invite Tooru to eat with them before the bus took them back to their own campus, but Iwaizumi firmly declined for both of them.

“So,” Iwaizumi said later when they finally left the gym, Tooru carrying Iwaizumi's backpack for him despite his protests. “What do you have planned for us?”

“It's a surprise!” Tooru said, poking his tongue out. 

Iwaizumi fixed him with an unimpressed look and Tooru reached out to grab his arm and wrap around it like a vine. “Trust me, Iwa-chan!” he said, pressing his grin into Iwaizumi's shoulder and throwing them both off balance. “It's going to be so much fun.”

“I guess if I ignore the fact that you'll be there,” Iwaizumi said in an indulgent tone, reaching up to ruffle Tooru's hair. 

They took the train back to Tooru's apartment, stopping off at the supermarket where he threw a few haphazard ingredients into a basket. 

“How do you feel about, uh...whatever this is?” 

Iwaizumi inspected the contents and shrugged. “We could just go out.”

“Don't spoil the surprise,” Oikawa said putting an arm around his shoulders and pulling him in for an impromptu hug, which Iwaizumi only slightly complained about. “I'm taking you out tomorrow night!”

“So much for the surprise,” Iwaizumi grumbled good-naturedly, pushing him off. “I only meant you don't need to cook for me if you don't want to.”

“Well, I want to,” Oikawa said with a pointed smile. “You can buy the groceries though.”

Iwaizumi rolled his eyes. “I knew there'd be a catch.” He grabbed the basket and rifled through it. “Hm, we're getting more chocolate for a start.”

 

 

 

Iwaizumi was unusually complimentary about Tooru's hastily thrown together attempt at making fried rice, which presumably meant he'd been subsisting primarily on cup noodles and convenience store bentos. He ate it almost before Tooru had started his own, and scowled at Tooru's pleased expression while he helped himself to seconds. 

Tooru pressed his knee against Iwaizumi's under the table and chewed his rice contentedly. 

After they'd eaten, Iwaizumi took a long bath, and Tooru mostly left him to it. He felt better, having someone here, but he was antsy too. More than once he found himself at the bathroom door with no real reason to be there. He was, he realised, after the third or fourth time he had herded himself back to the couch, behaving exactly like Takeru's puppy did whenever Takeru left for school. 

Afraid that Iwaizumi would come to the same conclusion, Tooru pulled out a book and tried to force himself to read it. He managed to stay confined to the couch until Iwaizumi finally emerged from the bathroom half an hour later, wearing just his boxers, the towel draped around his shoulders. 

“Hey,” Iwaizumi said, when Tooru just stared at him over the top of his book. “You didn't need to pee did you? I kept hearing you shuffling around.”

Tooru shook his head. He tried to remember what he'd just read in his book. Something about...horses? He'd already forgotten the characters’ names. 

“Sorry for taking so long,” Iwaizumi went on, lifting the towel to scrub at his wet hair. “Kinda needed it after today.”

“Don't apologise!” Tooru said, giving up on the book and tossing it to one side. “You worked hard today, Iwa-chan, and you had that bumpy bus ride too.”

Iwaizumi smiled and came over to flop beside him on the couch. “Your bathroom is disgusting,” he said without any particular inflection.

“It was a clean bathroom or clean dishes,” Tooru said primly. 

“And you chose dishes,” Iwaizumi said, giving him a bland look. “Typical. I'm sure Auntie thought that living on your own would make you _less_ of a slob.”

“Mama is an idealist,” Tooru said, shrugging. 

“I'm sure she's braced for heartbreak.”

Iwaizumi finished patting at his hair and carefully folded the towel, laying it on the coffee table. His damp hair flopped over his eyebrows when he sat back in the couch. His mother had nagged him to get it cut before moving away, but it was clear he had forgotten, and that he hadn't done anything about it since.

“Your hair is so long,” Tooru murmured, reaching out to run his fingers through it. Iwaizumi gave a barely perceptible flinch when Tooru touched him, but then he leaned into it slightly and let Tooru stroke out a few imaginary tangles. “I could cut it for you, if you want.”

“In your dreams, asskawa,” Iwaizumi said softly, his eyes falling shut.

Tooru pouted. “You don't trust me.”

“Not with my hair, no.” 

“I can hardly make you look _worse_.”

Iwaizumi smirked. “There it is,” he said, almost triumphant. “I knew you were being too nice.” 

“Rude,” Tooru said, still moving his fingers through Iwaizumi's hair. Heat radiated off his skin from his bath, and his cheeks were flushed. Tooru tugged at a strand of hair where it curled behind Iwaizumi's ear. “Iwa—”

“Nnnhh,” Iwaizumi groaned, listing sideways. His head landed on Tooru's thigh and he pulled his feet up onto the couch, curling into a ball. “So loud.”

Tooru laughed, watching Iwaizumi wince at the noise and his head being jostled by the moment. “Sorry, sorry,” Tooru murmured, moving his hand and dragging his nails over Iwaizumi's scalp.

“Mmmnn,” Iwaizumi moaned, turning his face into Tooru's thigh, breath hot through the thin pyjama pants Tooru wore. “You're forgiven.”

“Mm.” Tooru pressed his fingers down harder, massaging gently until Iwaizumi had completely relaxed against him, practically purring. His shoulders rose and fell gently. 

Eventually, Tooru's phone trilled with a message tone and he sat up, wondering absently how long they had been sitting there. His phone lay on the coffee table, but reaching for it meant he dislodged Iwaizumi, earning himself a disgruntled noise.

“You should put some clothes on,” Tooru said, patting his bare shoulder. The heat of the bath had dissipated. “You'll get cold.” 

Iwaizumi made a soft noise of complaint, but he dragged himself upright after a moment, blinking and dazed. His hair was a mess, sticking up on one side, disheveled from Tooru's fingers running through it. “Fuck,” he croaked, patting his head. “Did I fall asleep? What did you do to me?”

“Unspeakable things, Iwa-chan,” Tooru said vaguely, drawing his knees up to his chest while he flicked open his messages. It was the volleyball captain, cancelling the following day's practice thanks to a mix up with the gym, replacing it with a track session instead. Tooru grinned and typed back a polite message. “Iwa,” he said, looking up in time to see Iwaizumi tugging on a shirt, his back muscles supple and fluid. 

Iwaizumi glanced over his shoulder. “What?”

Tooru grinned. “Remember how I said you couldn't come and spy on our practice session?”

“Mm?”

“Want to go running instead?”

 

 

 

Tooru's apartment was so close to campus that they hadn't bothered going down to the gym to change, simply jogged there from his front door. 

Fujimoto was merciless with them, perhaps due to there being an opponent in their midst, and Tooru and Iwaizumi staggered the last thirty feet back to Tooru's door with their arms around each other's waists. 

“I will never—ever—fuck—doubt your training—again,” Iwaizumi groaned, doubled over by the wall. 

Even after the cooldown and the relatively sedate trudge back home, Tooru still felt like he was going to fall apart. Taking a deep breath, he dug his key fob out of his pocket with a wince and grabbed Iwaizumi by his shirt to hustle him inside. 

Iwaizumi insisted that Tooru shower first, giving him a lazy shove towards the bathroom. 

“Why,” Tooru teased, grinning over his shoulder. “Do I smell that bad?”

“You smell fine,” Iwaizumi said with a shrug, going to the kitchen sink. “But I don't want to listen to you whine.” He ran the cold tap and stuck his head underneath it for a few seconds, thoroughly soaking his hair. 

Before taking his shower as ordered, Tooru went over to the freezer and grabbed a handful of ice, pressing it to his wrists and the back of his neck to cool off. While he stood there, Iwaizumi straightened up again, yanking off his sweaty t-shirt and using it to dry off the excess water. He glanced sidelong at Tooru, raising his eyebrows expectantly. 

“Come here,” Tooru said, reaching for him. 

Looking puzzled, Iwaizumi stepped closer and Tooru touched a wet curl of hair, tugging it gently the same way he had the night before. Iwaizumi's expression softened, his eyes searching Tooru's face. 

Tooru reached his other arm around, his wrist brushing against Iwaizumi's waist. He saw the moment that Iwaizumi realised what he was up to, but he was too late to escape before Tooru plunged the handful of ice down the back of his shorts. 

Iwaizumi made a sound that Tooru had only heard from him before when being mercilessly tickled, the kind of sound that could only be described as a shriek. “You bastard!” Iwaizumi yelled, grabbing for Tooru's arms as he danced out of reach. 

“No, Iwa-chan!” Tooru laughed, backing away. 

Iwaizumi grabbed him despite his attempts to squirm away, trying to catch his flailing arms. 

“You're in so much trouble,” Iwaizumi growled, before hooking his leg around Tooru's ankles and tumbling them both to the floor. 

The falling felt longer than it actually was; a dizzy sensation of weightlessness combined with the weighty heat of Iwaizumi wrapped around him. Tooru hit the ground first, Iwaizumi landing heavily on top. The shock radiated through him, knocking the air from his chest and stunning him briefly. Tooru's hesitation gave Iwaizumi the upper hand; he scrambled on top and pinned Tooru's arms by his head

“Got you, you bastard.”

Tooru struggled, but with Iwaizumi's weight working to hold him down, he didn't stand a chance. 

“Ice up my ass,” Iwaizumi said, shaking his head. “The punishment will fit the crime, you piece of shit.”

“Don't,” Tooru yelped, as Iwaizumi leaned in. 

He jammed Tooru's arms down by his sides and used his knees to pin them, then grabbed his head and turned it to one side.

“Iwaaaa,” Tooru whined, still trying vainly to free his hands. “Iwa _no_ —”

Tooru felt Iwaizumi's breathless laughter against his cheek, thumbs digging into his jaw, and then his tongue plunged into Tooru's ear. 

“No no no no!” Tooru screeched, bucking his hips to try and unseat Iwaizumi. It was no good. Iwaizumi swirled his tongue around, covering the shell of Tooru's ear in saliva, then delving the tip of his tongue inside again. “Auugghh—”

Iwaizumi broke away from him, laughing loudly. He didn't complain when Tooru threw him off, rolling onto his back instead and laying his hand on his bare stomach while he laughed himself sick. 

Wincing, Tooru sat up and tentatively lifted his shirt to wipe his ear. “That was—you're— _ugh_.”

“ _Yeah_ ” Iwaizumi said, looking incredibly smug. 

“ _Disgusting_.”

Iwaizumi just grinned up at the ceiling. “And how many diseases am I gonna pick up from lying here?”

Tooru sniffed. “Depends. Up to date with your vaccinations?” 

Iwaizumi snorted. “Gross.” He tilted his leg so that he could see Tooru past his bent knees, then kicked out and nudged his foot into Tooru's thigh. “Hey, go shower.”

“What's the point?” Tooru said, still rubbing at his ear mournfully. “I'll never wash off this betrayal.”

“Idiot,” Iwaizumi said fondly, digging his toes into Tooru's thigh again. “Get on with it, before you seize up.”

 

 

 

While Iwaizumi showered, Tooru threw some leftovers together into a soup, and retrieved the rice he'd put into the cooker before starting their run. It was still relatively early; they had plenty of time to fit in the sightseeing that Tooru had planned for them. 

After stuffing themselves with breakfast, they bundled up warmly and headed out to catch the train. 

It was the first time that Iwaizumi had visited him without some combination of their families tagging along. They had both been so busy with classes, homework, and never-ending volleyball practices, that visits were difficult to schedule even though they weren't terribly far apart. 

Tooru felt a strange compulsion to impress Iwaizumi, or at least to make sure that he had a good time and that they made the most of his stay. 

He dragged Iwaizumi all over the city as the day rushed on, and made a point of sticking close the whole time: hooking his arm through Iwaizumi's to drag him along, holding onto the back of his jacket in the crowd, grabbing his hand and pulling him up when he complained about climbing the steps to the little shrine Tooru had found. 

Iwaizumi continued to hold his hand until they reached the offertory box, though Tooru didn't notice until he tried to fetch some coins from his jeans pocket. 

“Iwa-chan,” he teased, squeezing Iwaizumi's fingers before letting go. “Are you afraid you'll lose me?”

“I should be so lucky.”

By mid afternoon they were flagging, and Tooru grudgingly led them into a cafe so that they could rest their feet, and indulge Iwaizumi's sweet tooth. 

“God, we barely covered half of what I wanted to see,” Tooru complained. He shuffled his chair closer to Iwaizumi's and pressed their legs together under the table, leaning in towards him and opening his mouth expectantly.

Iwaizumi groaned. “Why didn't you order your own?” he grumbled, but grudgingly speared a mouthful of the delicate cake on his fork and held it up for Tooru to eat. 

“Mmm,” Tooru sighed contentedly, closing his mouth around the fork. He moaned quietly as the creamy filling started to melt on his tongue, shutting his eyes to savour it. 

“Don't start complaining that you want one too,” Iwaizumi said testily, yanking the fork back. 

Tooru opened his eyes and gave him a beatific smile. “Maybe just another tiny bite of yours?” 

They walked for a while afterwards, to give Iwaizumi a break between cake and dinner, and to let Tooru process the enormous hot chocolate he had ordered. After an hour, Tooru was still full, and while they paused under the awning of a shop to wait out a rain shower, he draped himself over Iwaizumi's shoulders with a pitiful moan. 

“Nobody made you drink it all,” Iwaizumi pointed out in a bristly tone, but he wrapped his arm around Tooru's waist anyway, taking his weight. After a moment he turned and pressed his forehead against Tooru's temple, sighing softly. “How about we skip dinner? Get some takeout or something later.”

Tooru moaned again, and Iwaizumi jabbed him in the ribs with his fingers. “Iwa-chan,” Tooru whined piteously, flinching. “Don't be mean to me, I had a plan.”

Iwaizumi laughed at him and squeezed the arm around him tighter, which was probably a mistake. “New plan,” he said, before carefully untangling Tooru from around his neck. “We go back to your place, watch a terrible movie, get takeout.”

One thing Tooru hated was having his plans disrupted, especially when he had thought them out carefully, but he couldn't deny that Iwaizumi's alternative sounded pretty great. 

"Alright,” he sighed, sounding put upon. “I suppose that would be bearable.”

Iwaizumi shoved him, and Tooru grinned. 

 

 

 

They were ambushed by a downpour on the walk to Tooru's apartment. Back inside, they stripped off in the hallway, and Tooru hung their wet clothes by the heater to dry. 

“Can I wear this?” Iwaizumi yelled from the bedroom. He leaned out of the doorway, waving a hoodie at Tooru.

“Go for it,” Tooru said brightly, pushing himself to his feet. He was shivering slightly in just his boxers, and he wrapped his arms around himself and crowded closer to the heater.

“Hey, do you—” Iwaizumi stepped out of the bedroom and paused, pushing up his sleeves. “What're you doing?”

Tooru bounced on the spot. “I'm _cold_ , Iwa-chan,” he whined. “Come here and hug me!”

Iwaizumi snorted. “Pass. Just put clothes on.”

“Ugh, mean.” Tooru turned back to the heater and tried to get closer without touching it and burning himself. 

After a few moments, he heard the sound of Iwaizumi soft footsteps as he crossed the apartment in his socks, and then his strong arms wrapped around Tooru from behind. The material of his hoodie was cool at first, but warmed up quickly between them as Iwaizumi squeezed him tight. 

“You're so whiny,” he murmured, resting his chin on Tooru's shoulder. His fingers brushed against Tooru's waist as he shifted his hold. They stood together for several moments in silence, listening to the faint noises from the other apartments, and the sound of the rain outside. “Hey,” Iwaizumi said quietly, his cheek still pressed against Tooru's neck. “You're okay, right?”

Tooru swallowed. He'd almost forgotten, in the happy daze of having Iwaizumi here, how empty and grey he had been feeling before. Tooru tugged at Iwaizumi's hands to loosen his hold, then turned and flung his arms around his neck. 

“Shit, warn me first—” Iwaizumi hissed, staggering backwards under his weight. 

Tooru tucked his face into Iwaizumi's shoulder. “I'm glad you're here.”

Iwaizumi's hands hovered over Tooru's back, as if he didn't quite want to touch his bare skin. “Of course, stupid,” he grumbled. He reached up and tugged Tooru's hair. “Your hair’s all stringy, candykawa.”

Tooru giggled and pulled back finally, wiping his nose with the back of his wrist.

“You'd better not be getting snot on this hoodie,” Iwaizumi said with false menace, tugging the material away from his shoulder to inspect it. “Wait, is this my hoodie?”

“Oh look, I need to go and get dressed,” 

“You thieving bastard—”

 

 

 

By the time Tooru was comfortably wrapped up in his snuggliest pyjamas, and his second snuggliest sweater—Iwaizumi having reclaimed his favourite—a terrible Korean drama series was playing quietly on the t.v., and two cups of tea were steaming on the coffee table. 

“You're such a good little wife,” Tooru said, stumbling past Iwaizumi as he attempted to put his socks on while still moving. 

“Say that again and see what happens,” Iwaizumi growled. 

Tooru laughed as he reached over to grab his glasses from where he’d left them on the table. He couldn't quite reach without draping himself over Iwaizumi, so he sighed and pouted. “Oh, Iwa-chan? Could you pass my glasses?” 

Iwaizumi grabbed them and passed them to Tooru, not bothering to take his eyes off the t.v. 

“Such a good wife,” Tooru sighed as he slipped them on. 

His only warning was a low growl, and then Iwaizumi grabbed him around the middle and hauled him down onto the couch. Tooru was too startled to yell, but then Iwaizumi tugged at the hem of his t-shirt, and Tooru started to laugh. 

“I warned you,” Iwaizumi said, yanking Tooru’s t-shirt and hoodie up to his chest. 

“Iwa no,” Tooru gasped, already giggling helplessly. “Iwa-chan!”

Taking no notice of his complaints or his half-hearted struggling, Iwaizumi took a deep breath, and then blew a wet, noisy raspberry over his belly button. 

“Stop, stop!” Tooru shrieked, but Iwaizumi apparently had no such plans. 

He dug his fingers into Tooru’s hips, took another deep breath and did it again, and again, until Tooru was laughing so hard that his eyes were watering. Iwaizumi finally released him, sitting back and looking smug while Tooru used his hoodie to wipe his eyes. 

When he could breathe normally again, Tooru hitched himself up against the arm of the couch, and put his feet in Iwaizumi’s lap. “Okay,” he said, taking a few deep breaths, while Iwaizumi grabbed his left foot and pushed his thumb into the stiff arch. “Hhnnng—”

“Your shoes are a wreck,” Iwaizumi said, his eyes on the terrible show again. “Buy some new ones already.”

“Yes, _dear_ ,” Tooru muttered, too sleepy and content to come up with anything more biting. 

After a minute, Iwaizumi drew off Tooru’s sock and started to massage his foot properly, moving up to rub his ankle, his achilles tendon, and down to his long, slender toes. Tooru made a soft noise of appreciation, flexing his toes to stretch out his foot, and smiling when Iwaizumi grabbed hold of his pinky toe and wiggled it. 

“You’re so lucky your feet aren’t ticklish,” Iwaizumi said thoughtfully, reaching for the other foot.

“I’m pretty much flawless,” Tooru agreed. 

“Thoughtless, you mean.”

They stayed in the same positions until the end of the episode, Tooru asking questions constantly about the characters and the plot, which Iwaizumi mostly ignored. His ministrations slowly eased until he was just stroking his hands over Tooru’s feet and along his shins. When the show’s credits rolled, the next episode already queueing up automatically, Tooru sat up with a shiver. 

“Cold?” Iwaizumi asked, reaching for Tooru's socks 

He nodded, and Iwaizumi slipped the socks back on for him, then raised his arm to make space. Tooru melted against him, curling up onto the warm space beside him. His glasses ended up smushed into his cheek, so he put them on the table and buried his face in Iwaizumi's chest, taking advantage of the snuggly hoodie. 

“Iwa-chan,” he said after a moment, speaking in a stage whisper. “Can you explain the plot to me again?” 

Iwaizumi made an attempt, and to his credit, it took Tooru almost an entire episode to realise he was completely making it all up. They talked a little longer and eventually fell quiet, letting the nonsense of the show wash over them. The sound of the rain outside made Tooru feel sleepy, and a few episodes found him slumped against Iwaizumi's shoulder, yawning occasionally. 

The playback finally paused, waiting for them to confirm that they were still watching. Iwaizumi shifted and his arm tightened around Tooru's waist. 

“Oikawa,” he said, his voice uncharacteristically soft. “You awake?”

His breath stirred the messy strands of hair against Tooru's ear, and Tooru shuddered a little before tucking his face in closer to Iwaizumi's neck. 

“Mm,” he hummed in response, slow and lazy.

Iwaizumi's arm moved up around his shoulders, and then his fingers trailed up the side of Tooru's neck and into his hair.

“Tooru—”

“Mm?”

Tooru lifted his head reluctantly, just as Iwaizumi turned his head and leaned closer. 

It was, Tooru thought, far too long since he had kissed someone he actually cared about. Iwaizumi's mouth was soft and warm, his tongue gentle against Tooru's bottom lip. His fingers were still in Tooru's hair, moving gently over his scalp and making him tingle. 

A quiet, needy sound came out of his throat, and Iwaizumi responded by groaning and kissing him deeper. He lifted his other hand to touch Tooru's cheek, the backs of his knuckles brushing against his jaw, his cheekbone. 

“Tooru,” Iwaizumi murmured as they broke apart for a moment to catch their breath. 

Tooru smiled at the sound of his name, so soft in Iwaizumi's mouth, and leaned in to taste it again. “Missed you,” he murmured, moving his hand to spread it across Iwaizumi's chest, feeling the hard muscle through his t-shirt. He took Iwaizumi's bottom lip in his mouth and sucked it gently, then swallowed up the gasp as he trailed his fingers lower, stroking over Iwaizumi's stomach. 

“F—fuck,” Iwaizumi moaned, breaking away from him. He pressed their foreheads together, cradling Tooru's head with both hands. “A—are you sure?” he asked quietly, shivering when Tooru moved his hand to brush Iwaizumi's hip. “Fuck, stop it.”

Tooru laughed and pulled his hand away. “Come here, Iwa-chan,” he said, tugging free of Iwaizumi's grasp. He shuffled down to lie on the couch, knocking the pillows to one side, and pulled at Iwaizumi's arm until he followed. “There,” Tooru said, when Iwaizumi finally lay beside him, their bodies touching in a dozen places. 

Iwaizumi stared back at him, eyes wide and nervous. Tooru reached out and touched his hand, and Iwaizumi curled their fingers together. “Are you sure?” he asked again, with a shake in his voice that made Tooru's chest tighten. 

“I'm sure you should kiss me again,” Tooru purred, tugging Iwaizumi's arm over his waist and sighing happily at the weight of it. He turned his head, nuzzling the underside of Iwaizumi's chin with his mouth. “Feels nice.”

Iwaizumi's breath caught loudly. Tooru could feel the busy heartbeat in his throat, lips hovering over Iwaizumi's pulse. 

“Iwa—” he murmured.

With an impatient sound, Iwaizumi freed the arm under his chest, and cupped Tooru's face in both hands. Tooru held still while Iwaizumi studied him closely. Their faces were so close together that he couldn't focus properly without his glasses, and it was unnerving to have Iwaizumi look at him so intently, without being able to look back. Tooru felt his face getting hot.

Before he could complain, Iwaizumi leaned in and kissed him again. It was achingly soft at first, nothing like the way Tooru would have imagined him kissing. Tooru ran his fingers over Iwaizumi's hip, a thoughtless gesture, and was surprised when he shivered and moaned Tooru's name against his mouth. 

“Iwa,” Tooru murmured in surprise, but then Iwaizumi slung his leg over Tooru's thigh to pull him closer, and Tooru's mouth was too busy for talking. 

Tooru had dated a little since he moved away, though it was just as hard to find the time for a girlfriend as it had been in high school, and the relationships had all fizzled out pretty quickly. He'd also had a couple of more salacious encounters, which had been fun at the time, but had left him feeling more miserable and lonely afterward. 

But with Iwaizumi kissing him slowly, strong fingers moving down his spine, Tooru felt like an empty glass being slowly filled. 

Iwaizumi's fingertips delved below the loose waistband of Tooru's pyjamas, his palm pressed flat against the small of Tooru's back. He had lost the hesitancy of the first kiss, and his tongue stroked eagerly against Tooru's. It was clearly not the first time he'd kissed anyone, but Tooru could still feel that he was nervous in the way his hands were trembling slightly, his heartbeat hammering. 

Without much thought beyond chasing the warmth of Iwaizumi's body, Tooru slid a hand into his hoodie, sliding his palm up Iwaizumi's back, pressing firm between his shoulder blades. 

Iwaizumi broke the kiss with a choked sound, fingers grasping Tooru more insistently. He ducked his head, then tilted it so that he could kiss Tooru's jaw, encouraging him to lift his chin. 

“D—do you—” Iwaizumi murmured haltingly, his voice tender as he nipped at Tooru’s jaw, “Do you want to—touch me?”

Tooru stroked the tips of his fingers down the length of Iwaizumi's spine and smiled at the way he shivered from head to foot, his mouth parting on a soft, longing sigh. He considered the question, reaching through his sleepy, contented haze for the meaning. 

“What do you want, Iwa-chan?” he murmured, tilting his head slightly as Iwaizumi continued to kiss the underside of his jaw. He moved to Tooru's neck, digging his teeth in gently before sucking at the spot. Tooru moaned and tightened his arms around Iwaizumi's waist. “Oh,” he gasped, tipping his head back into the cushions. 

Iwaizumi moved over, rolling on top of him more, and closed his lips around Tooru's adam's apple. 

Nobody had ever done that to him before, but the sensation of Iwaizumi sucking on his throat sent a jolt of pleasure through him. Tooru keened softly and dug his nails into Iwaizumi's back, dragging their bodies together. He felt a solid shape against his thigh, and his eyes flew open in surprise. Tooru struggled for a moment with the urge to make a joke, to tease his best friend about his erection the way he had done dozens of times before. When they were kids. When it didn't matter. Tooru was beginning to have a sense that it mattered now. 

“What d’you—what do you want?” he asked again, loosening his grip on Iwaizumi's bare skin. 

“This is okay,” Iwaizumi whispered against his throat. He nuzzled Tooru's skin with his lips, dragged a slow kiss across his shoulder. “I just—I've wanted to—” He broke off with a sigh, letting his weight sink into Tooru's body, face pressing into his neck. “I've wanted to do that for a while.”

“Oh,” Tooru said, trying not to sound as if his world had just been turned on its side. He blinked up at the ceiling. One of Iwaizumi's hands was curled around his hip; the heat of his palm was familiar, the possessive touch was not. Tooru couldn't seem to reconcile their long, boisterous friendship with the slow desperation in the way that Iwaizumi had trembled and kissed him. 

"Tooru,” Iwaizumi said quietly. 

“Mm?”

“I can hear you thinking.”

Tooru winced. “Sorry, Iwa-chan.” He tried to sound normal. He tried not to sound like someone who had just kissed their best friend and enjoyed it for what it was and not expected anything else.

Iwaizumi pushed himself up so that they were eye to eye. “Oikawa,” his said, his normal tone overtaking the softness. “What?”

“You...wanted to do that before?” 

Iwaizumi's mouth flattened. He nodded. 

“For how long?”

Iwaizumi looked back at him. “You didn't.”

“Iwa—”

“You didn't want—” Iwaizumi groaned and awkwardly extracted himself from Tooru's limbs. They both pushed themselves up to sit, separated by half a metre of couch. “You—you kissed me back,” he said eventually. It wasn't an accusation, and it wasn't quite a question, but Tooru heard one anyway. 

“I liked it,” Tooru said, twisting his hands together in his lap. “I missed you.” 

Iwaizumi ran his fingers through his hair. “I...okay.” He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “That's okay. I liked it too.”

Guilt surged up from the base of Tooru's gut. He could already see how Iwaizumi would brush this off, how he would forgive Tooru for messing things up, the way he always did. 

“Hajime—”

“I asked you,” Iwaizumi said, his voice quiet now, sounding as though it would crack if he dared to speak any louder. “I...I asked if you were sure.”

The words were like the twist of a knife in his chest. Tooru thought of the way he had behaved all weekend, constantly begging for Iwaizumi's attention. The way Iwaizumi had given it without question. He thought of what Souma had said, that piece of shit. 

_You don't want to give anyone the wrong impression._

“I'm sorry,” Tooru whispered. “I didn't know.”

Iwaizumi dropped both hands to his lap, unconsciously mirroring Tooru’s posture. He took a deep breath and exhaled slowly again. He was trying so hard to stay calm. Tooru was afraid to look at him. 

“That's okay,” Iwaizumi repeated, turning to smile at him. The sight of it made Tooru want to fling himself through a window. “There’s no reason you should have known. I didn't say anything.”

Tooru winced. “I’m so—”

“Don’t.” Iwaizumi’s voice was quiet, but inarguable. “We kissed, it was nice, that’s it.”

“That’s it,” Tooru echoed.

Iwaizumi stood after a moment and stretched. “We should go to bed, it’s late. I have homework waiting for me back home.”

Tooru nodded. It wasn’t _that_ late, but late enough to justify going to bed. He realised that they had forgotten to eat dinner, but food was the last thing he wanted to contemplate just then. He watched Iwaizumi’s back as he went to shut himself in Tooru’s disgusting bathroom, and tried not to count the minutes when Iwaizumi took much longer than usual to brush his teeth. 

“If you snore again, I’ll smother you,” Iwaizumi said before they went to sleep. 

“I do not snore,” Tooru said with false indignation. He didn’t have the heart to mean it, but Iwaizumi didn’t call him on the lie. 

 

 

 

Tooru didn’t sleep the night after Iwaizumi kissed him. He barely slept the next night either. Iwaizumi left early on Sunday, smiling and hugging Tooru goodbye as though nothing had happened, and Tooru went home and stared at his homework for hours, barely seeing a word of it. 

Volleyball practice on Monday morning was a living hell. After two nights of torturing himself—he should have noticed, he should have handled it better, he should have offered Iwaizumi the entire world to make things right—Tooru was far from able to play at the top of his game. He was slow and clumsy, saved only by the muscle memory that he had baked into his body through years of training. 

Fujimoto pulled him aside at the end of practice, his hand heavy on Tooru’s shoulder. The weight of his touch made Tooru’s stomach tangle with nauseous guilt. “Oikawa, is everything alright? You look like shit.”

“Just a virus,” Tooru lied, drawing on his false smile. “I apologise, Captain.”

“Don’t come to practice if you’re not well,” Fujimoto said sternly, though his eyes were kind. “You can’t play like this, and there’s no use getting everyone else sick too. Take the week off, come back on Monday.”

Tooru winced inwardly. “That’s really not necessary,” he said, trying to sound upbeat. “I’m really fine—”

“Next Monday,” Fujimoto said, slapping him heartily on the back. “If I see you before then, I’ll throw you out of the gym myself.”

“Yes, Captain,” Tooru said mournfully, before traipsing out to change. 

When Tooru attempted to nap through his two hour lunch break, tucked away in a quiet corner of the library that he liked, he was woken almost immediately by his phone. He glared at it before turning it over, expecting to find a text from his mom, maybe Matsukawa. 

iwa-chan: just found out there’s 4 seasons of that kdrama  
iwa-chan: next time yeh?

For a few wonderful seconds, Tooru felt hope swell in his chest. But then he realised that this was how Iwaizumi would deal with what had happened. He was a kind person, much moreso than Tooru deserved, and he would swallow his own disappointment to make sure that nothing changed in their friendship. 

☆Tooru☆: you're hosting next time iwa-chan!!  
☆Tooru☆: there'd better be popcorn xP  
iwa-chan: you're gonna get fat

Tooru typed ‘will you still love me when I'm fat?’, then erased it. Even though he suspected that Iwaizumi probably wouldn't care, it felt unfair to say that sort of thing now. He wrote back something innocuous instead about extra practice, and tried to go back to sleep. 

That night, Tooru finally folded up the spare futon, and congratulated himself on not leaving it out for a fortnight this time, the way he had when Hanamaki stayed over. When he had wrestled the futon into his closet, he turned to pick up the sheets and hesitated when he found Iwaizumi's hoodie abandoned in their midst. He must have forgotten to take it with him. 

At the time, Tooru hadn’t thought about where Iwaizumi had found the hoodie in his room, but supposed he must have picked it up from the floor when he found it. Tooru felt a little guilty for not taking better care of it after he had very deliberately stolen it from Iwaizumi's room while he was packing for university. 

Without thinking, Tooru lifted the hoodie to his face and inhaled. The painfully familiar scent made him reel, made his eyes and his throat burn, making it seem as if Iwaizumi had just been here. Tooru was certain that he would recognise Iwaizumi even if he couldn't see, just by the way he smelled. 

He abandoned the mess of dirty sheets on the floor and climbed into bed, clutching the hoodie to his chest. 

☆Tooru☆: can I ask a question  
iwa-chan: that's one  
iwa-chan: additional questions carry a forfeit  
☆Tooru☆: okay  
☆Tooru☆: would you ever have said anything?

Iwaizumi's next reply was several minutes in coming. Tooru pressed his face into the hoodie and breathed in deep. 

iwa-chan: no  
iwa-chan: not unless I thought you felt the same way  
☆Tooru☆: and if I did?

Again, he had to wait a couple of minutes while Iwaizumi started and stopped typing several times. When the response finally came, it was brief.

iwa-chan: you don't  
☆Tooru☆: but if I did  
iwa-chan: don't  
iwa-chan: I don't want this to be a thing between us  
iwa-chan: please

Tooru’s face crumpled. He could probably count on one hand the number of times Iwaizumi had asked him _please_ about anything. It wasn’t part of their secret language, the way they had talked to one another for more than fifteen years. 

☆Tooru☆: okay  
☆Tooru☆: I put the futon away!  
☆Tooru☆: are you impressed? (*¯︶¯*)  
iwa-chan: that depends, are you being held at gunpoint?  
iwa-chan: reply with stupid emoji face for yes  
iwa-chan: self-important bullshit for no  
☆Tooru☆: (￢_￢;)  
iwa-chan: help is on the way

Tooru grinned despite his wet face, and hugged the phone to his chest along with the hoodie. He wanted with a sudden, fierce desire, to be home. He wanted to gossip with his sister, and play volleyball in park with Takeru, and drink too much wine with his mother while they watched bad t.v. 

Sniffing, Tooru unfolded the hoodie and pulled it on over his pyjamas. It was warm from his arms, and it still smelled like Iwaizumi. If Tooru closed his eyes, it was almost like Iwaizumi was there. 

 

 

 

Tooru woke early the next morning, feeling dazed and disoriented. He didn’t have classes on Tuesdays except for an optional lab class, and with no volleyball practice, he felt lost. 

He went for a jog first, passing near enough to the gym that he convinced himself he could hear the sound of volleyballs being thrown around, but it was a tactical error on every front. Volleyball just made him think of Iwaizumi. 

Back in his apartment, the shower reminded him of Iwaizumi's complaints about his foetid bathroom; breakfast reminded him of eating rice and soup with Iwaizumi; his clothes were all clothes that he’d worn with Iwaizumi.

“Fuck,” Tooru shouted at last, throwing a balled up pair of socks at the wall, a pair that Iwaizumi had given to him for his birthday last year, with octopuses printed on them. He sat down in the middle of his, for once, tidy bedroom floor, his trousers still unfastened and his t-shirt on backwards. 

Tooru could feel himself slipping into panic, and he wrapped his arms around his knees and buried his face in between them. He could see that this was how they would be now. Iwaizumi would pretend that everything was okay, until it was. He would stop feeling whatever it was he felt for Tooru, and Tooru would carry on attempting to find something meaningful with people he couldn’t be bothered to make the time for. 

Finally, Tooru got to his feet and finished getting dressed. He knew what he had to do.

It was easier than Tooru had thought, to pack a few things in his backpack and take the train to an unfamiliar campus. The map on his phone took him to the gym, and a quick scout around assured him that the volleyball team had just finished their practice. Tooru took a seat on a bench outside of the gym to wait.

When a group of freshly-showered athletes started leaving the locker rooms in twos and threes, Tooru got to his feet and edged closer. He caught one of the loose straps of his backpack and fiddled with the fraying end. He hoped that Iwaizumi wouldn’t walk out surrounded by a crowd of people. Tooru wouldn’t know what to say to him, surrounded by a group of his new friends. He wasn’t sure if Iwaizumi would _want_ him to say anything. 

Finally, just as Tooru was beginning to think he had missed Iwaizumi completely, the door banged open once more and he walked out into the sun.

“Iwa-chan!” Tooru yelled, quivering on the spot. 

Iwaizumi looked up, eyes wide and startled, and Tooru raised his hand to wave.

“What—what’re you _doing_ here?” he asked, walking over hesitantly.

Tooru flashed him a nervous smile. “I unexpectedly had the day free,” he said, hearing his own false bright tone and hating it. He forced himself to pitch his voice a little lower, to stop overcompensating for the fluttering in his chest. “I—wanted to see you.”

“So Skype me,” Iwaizumi said, giving him a strange look before starting to walk. He jerked his head for Tooru to follow. “Come on.”

Tooru skipped after him. Iwaizumi was dressed in sweatpants, a hoodie under his jacket, which Tooru hoped meant that he was right, and Iwaizumi would be heading home after practice, rather than on to class. All the way here on the train he had been practicing what he wanted to say, but now that he was close enough to Iwaizumi to touch, and to feel the discomfort coming off him in waves, Tooru didn’t know where to begin.

“Did something happen?” Iwaizumi asked at last, after they had walked for several minutes in silence. “Are you alright?”

“I’m fine!” Tooru said, a little too enthusiastically. Iwaizumi gave him a suspicious look, and Tooru shrugged. “Practice is cancelled. I mean—I got told to take the week off. I was...off my game yesterday.”

Iwaizumi’s eyebrows shot up. “ _You_ were off your game? How come? Are you sick? Did you get hurt?”

“Stop grilling me!” Tooru whined, rolling his eyes. “I’m fine. I just didn’t sleep much at the weekend.”

“You should’ve told me,” Iwaizumi said, his face softening, expression going a little guilty around the edges. “I would’ve—”

“What?” Tooru demanded, before he could finish. “You would have done what?”

Iwaizumi closed his mouth and frowned. He continued to frown at Tooru for several painful moments before he sighed and turned away. “What are you doing here, Oikawa?”

Tooru bit his lip. This was his moment, the perfect opportunity to say what he had come here to say. But they were still outside, even if the street was almost empty. 

“I—it’s not—maybe we should talk inside?”

Iwaizumi stopped dead and folded his arms. He swept his eyes over Tooru, as though making sure he really was whole and uninjured, and then, apparently satisfied, fixed him with the deadeye stare that he used to use on misbehaving first years. “Spill.”

Tooru winced. “About...um. About Saturday.” Iwaizumi continued to glare back at him impassively and Tooru groaned. “About the kissing.”

“No.”

“Iwa—”

Iwaizumi shook his head, his shoulders slumping. “I said no, Tooru. We already talked about this, and I told you, I can’t—”

“But I don’t _want_ to forget about it!”

“Oikawa, go home.”

Iwaizumi’s voice was weary, and Tooru wished he could be less aware of how much effort he was. How much work it took to be his friend, to be a decent person around him. He felt something like seasickness swirling in his stomach at the thought that he was here not just to ask Iwaizumi to go on being his friend, but to give him _more_. But Tooru knew that he was a selfish person, so he wouldn’t deny himself the asking, even if he knew that he should.

“No,” he said, the nausea spiking when he realised that Iwaizumi didn’t even want to look at him. “Listen, please—I want to do this.”

Iwaizumi’s face crumpled and he was obviously restraining himself from yelling when he turned back to Tooru. “I said no. You’re just—god, you gave it ten minutes’ thought and decided it was a good idea. Go away and make up your own mind about something for once.”

Tooru rolled his eyes, trying not to let that sting too much. “Iwa-chan, when have you ever known me to do something reckless or ill-considered?”

“Unbelievable.”

“Hajime,” Tooru said, reaching out to put his hands on Iwaizumi’s arms. “Please, just listen for a moment.” Iwaizumi looked sceptical, but he didn’t say anything. That was good enough. “I’m not very romantic,” Tooru began. “And apparently I can see everything but what’s right in front of me, but none of it changes the fact that you’re my favourite person in the whole world—”

Iwaizumi flushed and looked away with a scowl. “Best friends is a lot different and you know it.”

“And I also know that I can’t be a good boyfriend,” Tooru continued. “I can’t stop caring so much about studying, or volleyball, or terrible Korean dramas—”

Iwaizumi snorted, and gave him a sidelong glance. Tooru beamed. _Gotcha_.

“I’d be a terrible boyfriend to almost anyone because I don’t care enough to make the time,” he said, watching Iwaizumi’s face carefully. “But I care about you. I’d do anything for you.”

“Oikawa—”

“ _Anything_.”

Iwaizumi’s eyebrows drew together, his expression darkening. “Including dating someone you don’t even like.”

“But I _do_ like you,” Tooru protested, frustration creeping into his voice. “I _love_ you,” he said, barrelling on even though Iwaizumi turned bright red and tugged away from him, scowling. “And it’s not about _making_ myself do anything. I didn’t kiss you just because it was easy.”

For a moment, when Iwaizumi opened his mouth, Tooru thought that he would argue, but he just sighed and shrugged. “No, I guess you never make things easy.”

Tooru bit his tongue. Now was not the moment to snipe back. He dared himself to step into Iwaizumi’s space again, to touch the side of his dangling hand with his fingertips. “I kissed you because—because you’re Iwa-chan,” he said softly. “Because you make me laugh, and you’re so good to me even though I’m terrible—” Iwaizumi snorted, but didn’t pull his hand away “—and because you’re ridiculously attractive, and you tell me to shut up when I need to shut up, and you make me feel safe, and you let me steal your clothes, which, by the way, smell _amazing_ —”

Iwaizumi leaned in and cut him off with a kiss, one of his hands slipping up to cradle Tooru’s face.

It was clumsy and brief, but Tooru’s heart jumped into his throat, and Iwaizumi turned his other hand and caught Tooru’s fingers in his own. “Candykawa,” he said in a low growl. “Shut up.”

“I will in a minute,” Tooru murmured, pressing his forehead against Iwaizumi’s. “Hajime. Please let me be your shitty boyfriend?”

Iwaizumi grinned. “I’m still going to kick your ass at volleyball.”

Tooru sighed happily, the words spreading warmth through him. “You’d better try.”

**Author's Note:**

> [@notallballs on tumblr](https://notallballs.tumblr.com/) | [my iwaoi fic](http://archiveofourown.org/works?utf8=%E2%9C%93&commit=Sort+and+Filter&work_search%5Bsort_column%5D=revised_at&work_search%5Brelationship_ids%5D%5B%5D=1329922&work_search%5Bother_tag_names%5D=&work_search%5Bquery%5D=&work_search%5Blanguage_id%5D=&work_search%5Bcomplete%5D=0&fandom_id=758208&user_id=notallbees)


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